#hsrratioxreader

[pomegranate-pen]

The Aeon's Gaze.Veritas Ratio x GN!Reader.

summary: when outer space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveler ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak, vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again,

You remember asking yourself, Akivil, how have you ran this path? How can the express experience friendship and comradery and even love like no other in the world, and then so easily leave it all behind? Why can’t you do the same? Why must you feel so lost?

Why must you feel so alone?

you're trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

why wasn't Dr.Ratio a genius?

tags: uhh kind of slowburn? reader is a magic professor. reader is gender neutral. father figure screwlum. I have been writing this post two million times now I cannot for the life of me tag send help.fluff, future fluff. toothrotting fluff. BUT also angst.lots of angst. lots of nerdy talks because it's dr.ratio guys ofc there's gonna be nerdy rambles. this entire fic can be seen as a love letter to ratio and a character exploration of him ngl.

Word count: over 16k.yes.yeah.mhm.send help.

chapter1. the unreasonable reason for magic

Dr.Ratio has always been…difficult to get along with, to say the least.

It’s not like you despise him- nor do you wish any ill will towards him. But it’s common knowledge between everyone that knows even the slightest bit about him that Ratio is known to uphold his own opinion to the highest of status, he sees his ideas as superior to the ‘simple-minded’ (his words, not yours). You’ve heard his students, as you’ve met them once or twice during your months as a professor, call him the very definition of a researcher. What other academic and overwhelmingly strict professors would want a researcher to be. Bold, confident and utterly obsessed with knowledge. Ratio holds his opinion in high regard not because of pride or confidence-though they certainly have a play in it- he does it because his opinions all derive from knowledge itself. He doesn’t like when people speak of things they have little knowledge about, and so, he himself constantly strives to store the most knowledge he can in his peculiar mind. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get along with him as a friend, let alone a colleague. Hell, you’re not sure if he’ll see you as a person worthy of speaking to, because you see- Ratio is an honest man, blatantly so. He says what he thinks and wholeheartedly shows a person if he thinks they’re worthy to hold-up a conversation with or not. One of those blatant methods is his mask, one where you’ve always found yourself smiling at. The sheer absurdity of it, the stern and reactionless block of delicately sculptured stone leaves you holding back giggles for no reason whatsoever. You’ve heard fellow colleagues call it unnerving-uncanny even, yet you find it the complete opposite. It’s amusing, it’s delightful to look at. It’s a full treat to glance at him and see him intensely conversing with someone with the mask still on, his voice high on emotions while his face unmoving as ever.

Colleagues who have spoken to him are confusing as well— some find him to be respectable, a determined and highly intelligent person whose conversation always activates the gears in your brain- other’s find him to be too prideful, a snob who thinks he knows more than anybody else, understands things better than others do, “mean-spirited.”your co-worker Rina called him. “mean-spirited and somewhat elitist- but rather than his elitism being laced within status and power, he is attached to knowledge. If he thinks you’re simple-minded or do not have the same IQ or higher than his, you are deemed unworthy to even glance at, let alone speak to.”

“I think he’s nice.” your other colleague, Byron adds, while Rina glares at him.“you only say that because you think he’s hot!”

“Perhaps, but can you blame me?” Byron gushes. “ he’s too gorgeous to handle. You may all think that he wears the mask as a statement, but I believe he wears it because he knows he’s beautiful. so he wears that ridiculous thing just to make sure the students don’t get distracted!”

“Oh please! He’s not that hot. Sure his eyes are mesmerising and he somehow can pull off purple…and his voice certainly does add to his attractiveness…and his abs-“

“ ooook— this conversation is getting out of control.”  You’d quickly  cut in, leaving the now embarrassed colleague trying to explain their reasoning while the other one laughs. Safe to say, the reputation of the ever so famous Dr.Ratio, amongst other employees of the intellegencia is varied, and it depends on whom you ask. There can be no label put into him other than ‘popular’. But this reputation does not hold a candle to how your students like to describe him. to them, he’s the strangest and harshest teacher they ever had, but he’s also what pushes them to improve and show their value in the university. Whenever they come back from his class to yours(whether if it’s from another day or merely a few hours,) you find them to be mentally exhausted, sleepless and even malnourished. Five minutes of your class is spent on letting them rant about their troubles with him- though, they never say whom they’re speaking about exactly. The teacher is left as ‘that one stern teacher before your class’ and he has become a ‘he who shall not be named’ sort of rule amongst your students. A ‘voldemort’, some nerd (you) might be keen to say. The horror stories you’ve heard about his teaching methods and assignments makes you feel bad for wanting to do a surprise pop quiz that day as well. but unfortunately, you have a class too, and it’s your responsibility as a teacher to teach however much you can in the small duration you have in each class. After all, magic is an important and impossibly difficult subject, and though you understand that the subject Ratio teaches must be of a difficult and utmost importance, you cannot let the students see yours as something to yawn at.

You’re no genius, and even if being amongst the intellegencia professors makes you one in others' perspective, it is still something you’d completely deny if directly asked. The only reason you’re a professor here is because of your extensive  knowledge and passionate love for magic. Magic of any kind, whether cursed or blessed, inherited or physical trait, from aeons or from the wonders of space- any sort of magic is fascinating to you. you’ve spent most of your years being a wanderer, traveling between worlds and planets mastering all kinds of magic, to the point where most people just started seeing you as a researcher rather than adventurer. You’d spend days in a planet's library cherishing every and each book with even the word magic in it, any friend you spoke to you’ve talked their ear off about magic with. Passion has become talent, and talent has become knowledge. That is how you found yourself being offered the role of professor, and it’s a job you’ve started to cherish, because it’s basically them paying you to info-dump however much you want about the only subject you found pure love for.

‘genius’ is a highly inadequate title for you, you’d much prefer just the term ‘researcher’ because in truth— that is still who you are. You’re a researcher- more precisely- you’re a wanderer. Soon, you’ll get bored of this teaching gig and then fly off to visit another planet in the vast-less galaxies and learn more about magic- maybe even discover an undocumented one which you can write extensively about and make it into a book. When one is only great in one particular subject, can they really be called a genius?

This— in truth, is the main reason on why you don’t speak to Ratio. You’ve heard of his statement-his extreme low-tolerance of people he do not seem worthy of his time- and so, you’ve already came to the conclusion that he might not fancy  a conversation with you, let alone a discussion regarding the different methods of teaching yo both have, because truly, from what you’ve heard from your students, it’s obvious that you two are like sun and moon, your methods are total contrasts. Where he enjoys bringing students up individually  to the front to analyze their solving skills on the board, you don’t put time on that, rather you quiz them and give them ‘group projects’ so they could master a collection of spells together, all while also giving you a group essay about a certain magic that hasn’t been documented well-enough yet and can help them broaden their scope on the limitless and infinite forms magic can have. If someone fails to meet his expectations, he quickly sends scolds them and explains to the rest why that person’s methods were horribly false. But you prioritize helping the person you’re questioning learn their problem first before turning back to their seats.  He deems exams and pop quizzes the very buildings of his grading for someone- while you believe the person’s activity in class is far more of importance. He gives no second chances, you either fail or survive his class, but you always can’t help but feel bad for the ones failing- giving them a chance to give you essays and reports that can somehow enhance their grades. He’s the stern teacher while you’re the kind one. You’re too different, you believe. You’re the high acceptance rated class while this is, horrifyingly, only three percent.

“I-I’m not saying I think he’s hot!” when your mind goes back to the conversation at hand, you see your two colleagues still bickering. This time, the embarrassed friend seems much more frustrated, while the other much more amused. “I’d rather die than to date that guy. His personality is hard to endure and his reputation far worse.”

you give a soft smile. “I’m glad I at least don’t have such a shaky reputation. It’s only been a few months and I’m already overwhelmed with work.” You gave a chuckle, yet, silence overtakes the place. For a moment, you think they’re probably busy just sipping their drinks, yet as the seconds pass and no comment is added, you look back up to them confused.

They look at you concerningly, shocked even. As if they couldn’t believe the words that left you. you felt your nerves shake.

“what? What is it?”

The two give a glance  to each other, unsure on how to break the news to you. speaking in some sort of glance-language, the previously amused friend forces the other to speak. He groans, looking at you with a guilty plea. “ uh…well,” he falters a bit. “h-haven't you noticed?”

The question makes your heart drop for a moment. “notice what?”

“ aeons , you seriously didn’t see anyone’s ugly stare at you?” the other asks, all while she looks at you with disbelief.. Shit, you have noticed those.

“..I just thought they did that because I was new?” you replied confused.

“Well- it is but—“ he sighs, unsure of how to explain it in the kindest way possible. “…it also has to do with how you got here.”

You look at them confused, mind clanking together to piece together their broken words. Then, in a moment of brilliance, your eyes widen and you feel breathless.

“ They think I’m a nepobaby ?!” the ends of your hair stand straight. The shame and embarrassment of the entire weeks of working here now coursing through you. The wall of ignorance, the wall of bliss some might call it, has now broken, and you’re left to witness the typhoon of horrid rumours drown you, the cold shrieking wetness leaving you shaken, the warm coffee in your hand now feeling cold.

“Worse,” she adds, hissing at the severity of what she will add. “ They think you’re a sugarbaby.”

It’s like the mythical Kraken beast from your home planet has come to attack and swallow you whole.forcing you to drown deeper in the dark waters as you look at the two friends with a painful expression, disgusted by the very idea of it all.

It was true that it was by Genius Society's member seventy six’ recommendation that you were considered for the position, yet that hadn’t changed the rigorous meetings, interviews, past studies and travel checkings you had to go through to get accepted for it. this is the intelligencia guild,after all. Although you are known for your research and scholarly skills in magic, so are many others, and it was through the filled basket of candidates that they soon landed on you.

“That's…I….” you didn’t know what to say. Even the very image of you and Screwllum dating leaves you astonished. To you, Screwllum was merely a good friend, a father figure even. He used to be your motivator when you felt utterly helpless in your pursuit of magic, the one who saved you one or three times in the Herta space station when they were under attack, just as you saved him. He was a comrade, an old robot who reeked of wisdom and kindness. One might argue the most normal of the geniuses. All feelings you ever had of him were platonic and for the longest times, you thought people have also perceived your relationship as such. Apparently not. “I need to go.” Was the only thing you could huff out before leaving the scene immediately, using your class that would start in a few minutes as the excuse.

-----

Late in the nights where only a few guards remain, there are only two teachers obsessed enough with their work as a teacher that they stay for longer hours in the place.  That would be you and the alabaster headed genius. Late at night when you’d feel the bones in your neck cracking from exhaustion, you make your way to the office lounge for a break, you glance in, seeing that the statue head is on the counter and you quickly scurry away. it feels wrong- to see the true face of the man so keen on hiding it  amongst most people. Sure, you find his reasoning to be ridiculous, but you’re not one to overstep others’ boundaries. If he sees fit to scare and intimidate people he claims are ‘simpletons’, then so be it. it’s a silent agreement to not bother each other one bit, even if you both need the lounge at the same time. The other just has to wait five more minutes before they get their coffee.

As your mind is hazy and sleepy as ever,  you intend to repeat the infamous routine. However, time is everlasting, yet also constantly in change. Or, this is just your flimsy excuse on the situation at hand.

With the night-light in your office being your only source of comfort, you find yourself unable to check even one paper. Mind boggled with the supposed ‘rumours’ that have been circling around you since the moment you’ve stepped in here. you felt guilt, you felt embarrassment and most of all, you felt offended.

You spent years of your life suffering for magic, living for magic. Breathing magic. You;ve abandoned everything, your home on earth, your friends, your sense of normalcy and sanity for the sake of reaching the unfathomable, reaching the power that was never granted to your own world. Though you do still stand strong on the belief that you are no genius, that doesn’t mean that you’re not a scholar. It doesn’t mean you’re not a scientist in your own right.  a seeker of knowledge, to solve the unsolvable, to travel the unending galaxies to answer a question that remains unknown even to you. What is magic? What’s its true purpose?

It’s bitter, really. How one influential man’s name can change the course odf everything you’ve worked for. Not that you blame Screwllum— you’re certain that he got this job for you out of concern for your well-being. Especially since your last hang-out, where you got drunk out of your mind with him on the cold tiles of your bedroom in the Herta space station, sobbing into his shoulders about the infinite loneliness you feel as a wanderer of space—

You quickly shook your head. Your mind needs to focus on work, not meddling memories of the past nor unimportant rumours. With a sigh, you get back up from your seat, taste buds already craving the utter bitterness of coffee, all while your mind begs for a quick nap, which you’re sure would be an eight hour sleep instead.

You dismiss it, trying to distract your desperate body with ideas for your next lessons instead. As your mind comes up with new ways to explain curse-based magic and exorcism spells, your hand wanders off to the door knob. You were so distracted by your new ideas that before you knew it- you were inside the lounge with golden eyes piercing through you.

 Eyes full of wit and intellect, judging you a bit before his gaze softens for a moment- then his brows furrowed and it looks as judgmental as ever once more. hadn’t he been wearing his common greek-like wardrobe, you would’ve mistaken him for a complete stranger trespassing the building.

“Are you just going to stand there?” his voice startles you. you hadn’t even realized you were standing frozen. In instinct, you gaze at the table a few feet away from you, noticing the alabaster head placed on it. shit. If only you weren;t so dazed, you would’ve avoided such a strange interaction.

“sorry.” You could feel your nervousness seeping into your voice a bit, you berate yourself for it in your mind. “…I won’t bother you too much. I just need to make some coffee.”

He stays quiet, only taking a few steps to the left, giving you a clear way to the coffee pot. With a mumbled thanks, you start making the coffee. Silence overtaking the atmosphere and making things even more awkward. Aeons, you should’ve waited five minutes, you should’ve been careful.

Perhaps you can make conversation with him? The very thought leaves your mind as soon as it comes. What in the world were you going to ask him? How was his day? Who is he? You already know that, and from what you know about him, or more precisely, heard about him, he seems like the type to dislike short meaningless conversations.

But then again, what others heard about you are the complete opposite of who you truly are— so maybe it’s best you give it a shot?

“Dr.Ratio, is it?” you turn your head to him. “ I’m L/n, I teach-“

“I already know who you are,” he huffs. . For a moment, you’re left speechless and (though you’ll never mention it to a soul) charmed by his accent .“there’s no need for such feeble introductions.” He walks around you slowly, eyeing you as your gaze follows his confused, unsure of what he’s exactly inspecting. He stops, right next to your side with the coffee pot almost near finished with its hard work, the room is silent. You decided to focus on his face a bit, eyeing the red-like pupils of his that make his eyes pop. Truly, your work-friends weren’t lying, he is kind of pretty. His gaze goes up-and-down on your figure, right then, he gives a scoff and takes  a few steps back, giving space between the now offended you and him. Seriously, what’s up with this guy? Was he a prick just like everyone else said?

You try to ignore the interaction, quickly taking out a mug from the cabinets so you could pour your coffee and leave in peace. Unfortunately, he speaks up.

“magic is an incredibly difficult subject to teach.” He starts off, arms crossed and his gaze away from yours. “ Its very meaning still alludes to many geniuses, with every research of them leaving more questions than answers. its comprehension is far worse for simpletons and a nightmare for imbeciles…wouldn’t you agree?”

The mug is soon left forgotten as you process his words. The atmosphere becomes tense as you realize that he’s interrogating you now, wanting to know the truth for himself. Your posture straightens, desperate to show an ounce of confidence as you answer honestly.

“it’s true that magic is unexplainable for geniuses. But there's a reason for it. geniuses want everything to make sense, they seek logic. Magic is pure chaos, it’s illogical. Once you finally accept that magic is completely illogical, the easier it would be to learn it. “

He hums at that, a finger on his chin as his eyes close in thought. “…a reasonable answer.” He mumbles to himself, leaving you to be left even more confused than before. His eyes snap open one more, eyes brimming with more curiosity. “Then let me ask this— L/n,” you’re getting a bit sick of him not using ‘professor’ or at the very least a formal title before addressing you. insecurity suddenly strikes you. Perhaps you deserve such treatment with all the rumours floating around?

“You say that mastering magic means accepting it as the way it is— then, how about understanding? From your words, it can be easily deduced that understanding this subject is beyond impossible and something that’s best to not question— if that is the case, then why are you here ?”

There's something almost blinding in his eyes, as if he’s reached the boiling point of the case, has finally set out the perfect trap that no fraud can escape. You realize that in this moment, it’s not only your professionality and position that is being questioned here, but it’s also your dedication for what you do and if you’re doing your job right. if you were granted the position of a professor this quickly, are you even worth it?

With a deep breath and clear mind, you look him dead in the eyes. “you sure do like twisting words, Dr .Ratio” unlike him, you have respect for such things. And it seems that your use of his title intrigued him a bit, as he raised a brow. “ which is unlike what people say about you. you seemed more like a man of logic to me.”  for first impressions, he’s been hitting all the marks for a prick. as he hears your words, his expression falters only a bit before it goes back to monotone. Not even a bit offended or at the very least somehow affected by your words. You find that even more infuriating, yet decide to not show  any more of your agitation with his sudden interrogation in the middle of the night. “I said it’s difficult, yes. But what I meant by impossible is clear. If one wants to master it, they must accept it and try not to understand it. but if one wants to understand it, then for a much easier path, they must master it first. They must accept its chaos and then try their best to comprehend it. That is what held back a lot of geniuses from understanding it. That is why I’m here.”

“I may not be a genius, yes.” His eyes squint at your words. “but I am still a scholar, and now, a teacher. I’ll do my duties to the best of my capabilities.”

A moment of silence passes by, your eyes staring intensely into his, waiting for an answer. He hums a bit in thought, a small smile etching his lips as he un-crosses his arms and walks to the table to grab his alabaster head.

“the best of your capabilities, you say.” He turns back to you once more. “ Well then, we must see if this ‘very best’ of your work truly does fit the standard, don’t we?”

The mischief in his eyes leaves you confused. “…what are you implying, exactly?” had your mind been in the gutter and you wouldn’t have seen him as a total douchebag, this line of his would have had an entirely other meaning. Especially with how his eyes bore so intensely into yours now, as if he’s analyzing your very being in nanoseconds.

“yes, that will do.” he hums, ignoring your question. He walks away, near the edge of the door before he stops again- giving you one more glance.

“wait - what ?” This was too much implied fiasco in one night, a truly abysmal situation you’d rather not engage in. Even so, you’re not sure if you can convince someone as steadfast and stubborn as him to leave you be, not unless you want more suspicion on you. With a sigh and a pinch of your temple, you ask tiringly, “ when will you be visiting?”

“Wanderer or scholar, it doesn’t matter to me. Your words are confident, but you lack evidence. I’ll be the judge of your work, L/n.”

Ratio merely shrugs, leaving you alone in the lounge with a now cold coffee on the counter, and a head full of thoughts to dwell on.

----

You were always a night owl, but never to this extent.

That, is the first thought you have as you finally get  a grip on reality. All with the help of a red-pin stinging your finger as you tried to hastily take it out of your board.

Scraps of paper littered from the ground floor to the very walls, red lines linking everything together as if it’s a clue board for an unsolved murder, at last, the words of the ever-so-peculiar Veritas Ratio has left you rewriting every single one of your study plans in the night, all un fear of somehow,someday, in one way or another your teaching and skills will be questioned, and if the very debate against you is by none other than the world’s most stubborn scholar than you’d rather take the shovel out of his hands and dig the bloody grave they set for you all by yourself. But that’s quite the pathetic sight, isn't it? and in any case, you’d hate to see the smug smile of the bastards who've been spreading rumours about you all these months like a bunch of teenagers as you’re crushed. You’d be damned to let them play as Nanook for a day, even if it is for only a few hours.

Therefore, here you are, with eyes bloodshot as ever, taking a quick picture of your board and sending it to the group chat. Asking the two colleagues of yours that were all awake for much different reasons than yours- (one was gaming all night and the other binge-watching their favorite melodrama for the 100th time)- on how good of a study plan it is.

RatioSimp: dude.

RatioSimp: please go to sleep.

Y/n : that does not answer my question.

RatioSimp: if I tell you it’s good would you finally go to bed? We’re the ones with the cancelled classes tomorrow, not you.

RatioSimp: wait.

RatioSimp: WHO CHANGED MY USERNAME?!!!! AND WHY CAN’T I CHANGE IT?!

Y/N : rip but it’s true tho

RatioSimp :I would’ve blocked you rn if you didn’t help me with checking the exams papers yesterday.

Y/N: Whatever you say Ratio simp.

RatioSimp: *RatioSimp has attached an image of a google search bar, ‘how to hack and change someone’s username’*

RatioSimp: revenge shall be mine soon.

Y/N: good luck coming up with a funny username by then

RatioSimp: Are you calling me unfunny??

*Y/n has left the chat*

RatioSimp: IS THAT A YES??!!

Your nerves eased down a bit, yet the pit of acid in your stomach was still bubbling to an abnormal degree. You can’t help but imagine a disastrous scenario where the duke might find your teaching methods horribly relaxed- they might find it to be far too soft for such a harsh school and reprimand you for such, possibly even fire you as a result. Though, truthfully, you do not care about the status of your employment, what you’re more worried about is possibly being forced to be harsh on your students, and even if they did fire you, the substitute being far harsher or worse, unable to teach such a subject.

Magic is confusing, magic is difficult. It’s not meant to be fully understood, so you cannot teach it by the textbook’s definition of it. magic is always changing, always becoming more than it once was. With limitless power comes limitless knowledge, and magic is something no one can call themself an expert at, not even you. hell , if you’re the best professor they could find at the moment, someone who does not even have the confidence to call themself a genius, let alone let others do so, then who in the world(s) would they choose next?

you sighed, feeling the very weight of this workload affect you right now at this moment. Glancing at your phone and ignoring the abnormal amount of messages, you glance at the clock and note the time. Holy shit . Your work starts in two hours .

With an exhausted sigh, you feel your eyes starting to waver a bit, begging for some shut-in. Though the very idea of sleeping for only two hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth, it is far better than showing up to your class tweaking and ticking like a time-bomb from all the caffeine you would’ve been desperate to consume.

You take a glance around your room, tching a bit from seeing the mess it has become. Something far from aesthetic and beauty that the internet fools you to believe in, in which all the colors of all the books match and the handwriting between the scribbles of neat yet a tin bit crumble up paper is all cursive and pleasant to look at.  Oh, and who could forget the pretty mugs all tied in together, one of them laced with a motivational or sarcastic quote that just screams ‘I’m a scholar’. No no, it was nothing like that. For that aesthetic, though pleasant and calming to look at, like all other aesthetics and pictures are based on fiction, on lies. They are a representation of what people wish being a scholar was like. Happy, enlightening, calming and riveting. Yet, it’s nothing like that at all.knowledge can make someone go mad, it can make them lose sleep and sanity. It makes you forget that this house isn’t truly yours, it’s just a small apartment you’ve rented that barely had a thing in it other than a bed, bathroom and a tiny kitchen. No decorations, barely any lights and not even a pillow for the supposed be you got (which was incredibly fragile and creaky, always making you fear that it’d break on you in the middle of the night). Yet now, the empty, cold and lifeless room has become more fit to be a crime scene. From asylum to murder. How fitting! it’s like the very papers you’ve ripped apart and torn out or messed with just explain the story themselves. A lonely human free from the asylum’s care finally basks into the world again, finally tastes the true meaning of freedom. Only to find themself frozen, a heart with a sinkhole, that just keeps getting deeper and deeper the more time passes and the more that their isolation consumes them. The very house they got, the very fresh start they found has now become their new source of madness, their new asylum. They may have left the asylum, but the curse of loneliness and fear of abandonment has never left them. It is chained to their very being now- changed to their hands like in a vice, tight grim that makes their very fingers shake as they write out their sanity, as they write with pure insanity.

You clear your throat, feeling an itch in it that has never been felt. Aeons, is the lack of sleep getting to you now? you can barely even think straight anymore- let alone try to comprehend the carousel of thoughts that are going through your head.

With a sigh, you shrug off all the litters of paper, pencil and pens off of your bed and crawl into the sheets as the bed creaks with even an inch of your movements. The constant shrieks and creaks makes you wince in annoyance until your ears get used to it, and your mind succumbs to dream land as your head hits the pillow.

You feel like you're safe now, between the softness of your new bed sheets you bought a week ago and the little blue lamp giving you comfort through the eerie night. Yet, as your poor body thinks that this is finally it, you will finally get the rest you so desperately need, a certain, mischievous and evil mind of yours starts asking its dark questions of the day, ones that literally keep you up at night.

How long has it been since you’ve made a room yours ?

During your travels, there was rarely any time or, frankly at the start, any money for booking inns and hotels. So most of the time you were left camping or sleeping in empty rooms a few employers of yours offered for your services. In your time as a student, you’d often sleep in bunk beds with others and so decorating a room was usually unnecessary. After all, why try to make it yours when you’ll be only staying for only a few months or weeks? Why put on such time and effort for something that is meant to last for years?

And yet— these clusters of paper, you buying bed sheets with your favorite designs and hell-even the goddamn board you bought and installed in this room- these are all signs that someone lives in this building, someone lives in this room. someone is a part of this world, alive and important to the city around them.

Your other rooms were always left untouched, not even a pot or table moved one inch to the right or left. Your suitcase was always packed, your fridge was constantly empty. Yet now, in this room there are signs that you live, that you are no mere viewer of this world now, but a part of the play they’re all acting in. an actor who doesn’t even know their lines, let alone the play they’re in.

With a now heavy heart that matches your mind that was swimming with heavy memories- you grab your pillow, take a deep breath and scream into it with all your might, hoping, begging and even praying it will make the pain go away, that it will help your mind shut up and for your heart to stop throbbing in pain.

You tried to ignore the little teardrop marks that spotted your pillow as you finally drifted off to sleep.

-----

You craved something stronger than coffee.

The exhaustion that coursed through your veins was phenomenally high, your cup of sad black and half-assedly brewed coffee was becoming stale on your tongue. No matter how much you drank, you didn’t feel one bit awake.

“huh?— P- Professor L/n ?!”

The sudden voice of a student merely walking by stopped you in your tracks. Aeons, did you look that bad? Never in your life have you heard a tone so exasperated and shocked by your appearance. The student, along with a group of their friends approached you with worry, all giving different surprised reactions at the state you’re in. it took you a moment to realize exactly who they were-but when you did, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“oh…Dimitri.” You greet the first boy who noticed you. a student of yours who sat in the front row seats and was constantly writing down notes. He was a good kid, though at times his constant parade of questions were annoying- nevertheless, he had a golden heart, and his friends never shied away from teasing him about his nerd-like nature. Speaking of…

“You look like shit, prof.” the boy in the red jacket spoke, grinning.his clothing instantly reminded you of who he was. It was Caleb, the kid who sits in the back of the class. He never paid attention to class, not unless the magic you were speaking about involved pyrotechnics.His amused look quickly shifted to one of annoyance as another kid with glasses hit him in the head.

“watch your language, dumbass .” Glasses kid spoke. His voice instantly reminded you of who he was. Tulio. Always first in and first out, an incredibly punctual kid with a strong love for illusion magic.

“since when did you care?—“

“since you once called the craziest professor around here a ‘ shit-faced greek stone’ right in front of him —“

“both of you, stop.” Dimitri hit both of them in the head. His attention quickly turns back to you. “are you alright professor? You look like you’re going through one of- ehh…” Dimitri looks around for a second before leaning in. “ one of ‘you know who’s exams.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, which, in hindsight, perhaps sounded like a cry for help.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” was you reply. “ Just make sure to have your notebooks on hand. Today’s session is a wacky one.”

It seems like your tone was not convincing enough for Dimitri. His eyes only looked at you with more concern. However, they quickly lit up with hope as he started rummaging in his bag.

“Well, now you’re starting to scare me, prof.” Caleb continued the conversation. “I was hoping you’d have us test out spells again at the lab.”

“eh…well, maybe next time, Caleb.”

“..can’t it be today?”

Your brow rose . “ Why should it be today?”

Caleb and Tulio glanced at each other for a moment with an indescribable expression, as if they were trying to communicate something with mere blinks and breaths. Before you could question further- Dimitri excitedly takes out the energy inside his bottomless bag (it seems like the bottomless/teleportation spell you’ve taught the kids are getting far different uses then what the dukes and fellow colleagues might expect).

“Here ya go prof! I drink this anytime I need a pump of energy in me!”

You take it, giving it a good look and grimacing about how tall the drink is. You turn it around  to check its description, only to become pale at the percentage of sugar and caffeine.

“uh…is this-..is this healthy?”

“not at all.” Dimitir laughed. “but it’s always helped me go through hellish exams.”

Exams. Right. This is just like an exam. And unfortunately for you, the voldemort of the university is the judge of it all. He's the one designing the questions, the one who set the date to ‘I don’t know ill I just pop in one day and say exam time asshole!! And ruin your entire fucking week or maybe, horrifyingly  even, month now by haunting your dreams every night about this god awful shitty disgustingly bad and outrageous fucking exa-“

You quickly open the can and gulp down the entire thing.

You could hear Dimitri choking on the rest of his rambles, all while Caleb laughs in astonishment and Tulio hisses in second-hand regret.

You take a deep breath, letting the strawberry gas filled taste invade your mouth with its insane sugar and spice. “…uh.thank you, Dimitri. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“y-you sure you’re okay prof? you can cancel today’s session if you want-“

“no no. I’m fine. I think. Maybe not.Maybe yes. Maybe-“ shit, not even a minute and the caffeine is already making you feel hyper. “just uhh- just get to class in time and have your notes ready. Today’s session is gonna be  a long one. “

“you…already said that…”

“d-did I?...” yep, this seals it. Screwlum was right, caffeine would be your downfall.“ ….I’ll see you kids later.”

----------

You swear you just saw Qlipoth watching you by the window.

Your heart is in a strange state. Not in disarray, yet so close to its edge. You're holding yourself back from talking outloud and doing every tricky movement imaginable, unable to mask it all. Yet, you try to, desperately. Trying your best to not weird out the students that are pouring in, awaiting the class to fill and for the chatter to end.

You take a glance at the room. there seems to be no sign of an alabaster head. Which means that for another day, you’ve survived. And for another night, you will be tortured.with a sigh and deep breath, you close your phone and tap the board, bringing the class into motion

Today’s session was all about emotion-based magic-commonly love spells and such- but also consisting of different varies emotions that one can casts spells of, yet, it’s a complicated process, and is in need of an experience and course in a multitude of topics such as neuroscience and psychology. You’ve mostly covered the history at first, explaining which aeon it came from and which planets are the most successful at generating this sort of magic without any need of these specific sciences, but for average magic users, such as the students in your class, it was needed to understand at least the slightest bit of them so they wouldn’t screw up the spell and cause horrid damages to the brains of their subjects, truly, it’s one of the more delicate magics, one where you’ve repeatedly warned them not to use at their current intermediate level, best to leave it for another year, decade even, because this magic was even a hellish thing for you to learn- you still remember when your teacher at the time cast one of the spells on you and you ended up crying for five straight hours, ranting and rambling about all the things in your life frustrating you most- even reaching the point where you confessed that you thought you were unlovable-that in all this time of your travels, you have failed to find enough love for another that you’d decide to stay, or even someone loving you so much that they’d want you to.

You quickly shake your head- taking a quick sip of water as the students gingerly take down notes. You pick up the marker to write down another spell on the board once more- yet falter as you see a porcelain white head poke out between the rows of students.

There he stood, in all his prideful glory, with crossed arms and a statue for a head that has become a nuisance for you now- being unable to see his expression and honest reaction to your teachings. Students , whom must've noticed his arrival much sooner than you, only share small glances to the ‘he who shall not be named’ professor and then each other. You stare for a moment, unable to process anything at that point. Heart in a complete panic and anxious thoughts consuming your mind. You close your eyes, decide to imagine this as pure hallucination and continue your teaching as if no strange man is there. no, the stern teacher your students always talk shit about is definitely not inspecting your class right now. He totally just didn’t see you info-dump about your hyperfixation  like a child. absolutely not. Nope nope. This is still a completely normal class, a completely normal day and your bloodstream is completely normal and not now,as you’re guessing, slowly starting up a timer for full-shut down mode in the next three hours. Maybe two.maybe one. Maybe even just five minutes -

No no don’t even guess!! You’re certain your body is as happy as a clam!! Your arms are most certainly not begging for a break right now!!! your mind is definitely not shutting down as we speak!!!and this? This is a very normal class. That’s all it is. A class about magic. Specifically- psychological/emotion-based magic - the one which  doctor fucking Ratio is now inspecting-

You take a deep breath midway lesson- calming down a considerably small amount of your stress and continue as if it was nothing important, ignoring the man whose eyes never left your form.

----

“ you did great professor .L/n !” one of your students whispered before leaving. Others gave the same anecdotes or just thumbs ups and smiles. Yet, it did nothing to comfort your panicked mind. Sweet? Yes, but very unhelpful, because the man himself was still quietly sitting at one of the row seats, his fingers grasping his chin in thought.

If you weren’t in such a nervous state, you’d giggle at the scene you’re seeing right now, the stone head still amusing you to no end. With a quick amount of confidence and motivation, and by seeing how he’s still unmoving from his seat, perhaps wanting to stay and think a bit more, you approach the stairs leading up to him and with each step closer, you could feel your neck suck in more breath and hear your heart beating faster. You cleared your throat, hoping your stress wouldn’t be evident enough through your voice.

“so…you’ve finally visited.”

He doesn’t glance up to you, nor does he respond. You can hear your mind berating you to the galaxies and back for thinking with your heart and not logic- not assuming that he might've wanted some quiet time instead.

You reach out your hand, hoping for a handshake or at the very least his attention.  “It's been some time since we last met, hasn’t it?”

Still, no response.

Okay, fuck this guy.  the least he could do was say hello back- or maybe you’re the prick here now? Aeons, you really need to leave—

“you mentioned something about happiness spells, about how they generate more chaos than they do ‘happiness’ in a person.” He finally speaks.” Could you elaborate?”  His voice is smooth, yet it still shows his confidence and pride clearly, though, it should be said that since he’s curious, his voice should sound more confused and in need of clarification, yet here, it’s like he’s truly taming his task seriously, his inspecting you and your knowledge of the subject you teach personally now. And so, you decide to answer it as clearly as you could- as if you were teaching a new lesson.

“ The spells will enhance one’s serotonin and their outlook on life becomes incredibly positive at that moment, so much so that this positivity they have slowly descends to toxic positivity the more they’re influenced by the spell. Enhancing any kind of emotion can cause multiple behavioral problems, because the patient in question’s mind all other emotions they feel is simply ignored for the one that’s been enhanced. “

“hm, good. So you weren’t just bluffing over there.”

You’d feel offended, yet your mind reasons that his action is not necessarily out of disrespect, rather it’s from caution.

“it’s foolish how people resort to magical drugs to somehow fix their life rather than proper therapy.” He then scoffed. “ But perhaps, they do this because they fear facing the truth about themselves. That maybe, if the problem hasn’t been solved in a day or so, they’re the very root of the problem.”

Something about the conclusion made you feel iffy, it felt somewhat wrong. And so, you bit the bullet and countered, “ well, I don’t think it can be that simplified.”

He tilts his head, you see it as confirmation to continue.

“ Though yes, you could argue that the problem could be from them entirely- there’s also the possibility that the problem could be another person. It’s hard to convince yourself you’re the problem, but it’s much more difficult to convince someone else that they are. There’s also the aspect of the person whose problem being a loved one- if that’s the case then one could feel horrible for even mentioning the idea of them being in the wrong.”

Ration then snaps his fingers. “aha, well that’s where you prove that I’m right. ” He then turns around to the board that’s far away from you. whether it’s for dramatic effect or if he’s truly in thought, you’re not sure.

“If the person themself can’t find the courage to face others and confront them about the issue, then they’re the problem. They need to face their fears directly, if not, the problem will only worsen, and they will soon be left with quick and temporary solutions that’ll never solve the wider problem at hand.” He turns around to face you once more. “they need to have confidence, in their own abilities and knowledge, they also need to have trust.” This is starting to feel somewhat personal now. “ in themself and others. if one is on the run all the time, there will soon be no home to go back to.”

“…are we still talking about psychology spells?” you gulped, feeling like someone intruded into your privacy without your consent or awareness of it.

To your luck, he doesn’t add anything else to that topic, only humming in what you can only describe as amusement. For what? You're unsure of, and would rather not know anyway. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. He then leaves, without bidding goodbye, yet as much as you want to feel annoyed by that, you find it to be in character for him. As you’ve said before, you’re no genius, and perhaps, he’s sensed that in you from the moment you started arguing back with him.

You’re about to just leave the classroom, taking your phone and other belongings with you, yet you pause for a moment, frozen at the door as you’re reminded by something horrid.

You didn’t ask his opinion on your class yet.

Another fearful thought hits you.

What if he thought you were terrible?

With a new pit of anxiety, you leave the classroom wanting to scream your head off. If the aeons were kind enough, which from what you’ve studied they’re often not, they’d give you the sweet release of death already.

-----

You couldn’t focus.

The dimly lit office room that was once your oasis to work at has now become a nuisance. Your essay was coming to a complete halt— your mind going nowhere but the meeting you had with Ratio a few days ago. Thankfully, nothing of importance has really happened. You hadn’t had anyone call you in for a questioning or anything of that embarrassing sort, yet, a part of you has become selfish. Especially since you heard your companions speak about how the kind yet notefull criticism they got from their inspectors was exceptionally helpful. In that moment, you realized that you wanted to know if you’re doing well too.though you don’t really agree with all of his views, you still consider them valuable, you’re eager to improve, especially since you might not even work here for long, considering that your wandering and urge to adventure slowly but surely building back up.

Or, maybe, you just wanted to see Ratio again.

You shake your head and huff in annoyance. No, that couldn’t be the case. It shouldn’t be. You’ve only met Ratio once, and from the get-go he seemed like the type you’d best stay far away from. Grouchy, overly-confident and full of insults. You were certain that had you been wrong somewhere or faltered for even one moment in your answer, you’d be facing the nastiest of insults and wishing you would’ve never met him.

Nevertheless, your mind was your enemy. The constant curiosity brewing within you, the questions and insecurities you now have of your work ethics and your brief, yet thoughtful conversation with the alabaster headed man has left you unable to complete your work and in need of the freshest, cheapest and saddest coffee the office lounge had to offer.

With a tired sigh, you get out of your seat and office, walking down the cold halls and basking the vastless stars that shine brightly within the windowsills. Memories of traversing alongside the endless bundles of light left you in memoryland; where the space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveller ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak. Vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again.

You remember asking yourself, Akivil, how have you ran this path? How can the express experience friendship and comradery and even love like no other in the world, and then so easily leave it all behind? Why can’t you do the same? Why must you feel so lost ?

Why must you feel so alone?

The bitter thoughts soon fade when you find yourself at the office lounge’s door.

This time, the place is empty.avoid of any mathematicians and alabaster heads. The only thing you are met with is the same old coffee pots and empty chairs.

Something behind you cuts the silence.

“..haven’t you had enough coffee for the day?” the accent, the sarcasm and the underlying curiosity, that was Ratio alright. “you were one cup away from a stroke when I saw you earlier today.”

“...I’m making tea.” You huffed, now embarrassed by your lack of sanity today.

“Tea has the same amount of caffeine as coffee.” His tone was so stern, you almost felt like one of his students. Someone who turned in a paper late and is now facing punishment.

“What do you suggest I have to keep me awake? Water ?” you grumbled, finally turning around to see him. your eyes widen for a moment- realizing that he doesn’t have his alabaster head on once again. Yet you quickly shake away the thought, not wanting to look flabbergasted in the face of a man who's been torturing you the entire week.

“ Perhaps you shouldn’t stay awake in the first place .”

You stayed quiet at that, knowing fully well that he’s in the right. you really do need sleep.now more than ever.

“It's not by choice.” He rebottled.

“said the man who is also awake.” To that, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Then we’re in the same situation, Doctor.” You huffed, filling up the kettle with water and setting it on the electric tea-stationary. A peaceful silence fills the room for a moment, only the rumbles of the kettle being heard as its heating the water to its boiling point. In this quiet moment, you wonder if you should ask the golden question. If you should seek the answer to all your doubts. Perhaps it was out of stupidity, perhaps it was out of exhaustion and lack of self-awareness, but you dared to jump into the lion’s den, then berated yourself in your mind for comparing this task so unbelievably horrifying, and finally asked the question that's been on your mind the entire day.

“….did you like my class?....”

Ratio rose a brow, curiosity gleaming from his eyes as he crossed his arms. “oh? What value does my opinion have on this subject?”

“I-I don’t know.” you shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed now. you weren’t one for interrogation, especially when you’re the target. There’s something about ratio’s eyes that make you feel like a test subject, as if you’re an intriguing piece of gemstones that he’s been tasked with knowing every inch of. “you were the one who visited out of nowhere.”

“And that didn’t strike you as odd?” he countered.

You huffed, eyebrows furrowed as you felt a headache coming. “I’m…assuming you were sent by the intellegencia guild’s heads?”

“So you do possess basic deduction skills.” His sarcastic and slightly coy-tinged voice irked you for a moment, but you didn’t let your annoyance show. Instead, you merely sighed and crossed your arms as well, looking at him with the same amount of fierceness he was giving you.

“Are you going to keep on dodging the question?”

He scoffed, closing his eyes for a moment and opening them up to judge you. “ Are you that desperate for other people’s approval?”

“hello??? You’re the one who interrogated my classroom??” was all you could say as you looked at him in disbelief.

He merely hummed at that, before adding “well, I had to. after all, they asked me to do so.”

“and?....”  you anxiously whispered. He looked at you blankly.

“Well you didn’t receive a letter promptly firing you now, did you?” gosh, why does he never give a clear answer? Must he always speak in riddles?

Nevertheless, you knew what his words meant. You’re safe. For now, at least.

“Still,” you pouted. “that doesn’t answer my question professor Ratio. What did you think of my class?”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“well it mattered for the intellegencia guilt heads, hadn't it?”

“they did not specifically seek for me.” He argues back, then gives you a scrutinizing glare. “you’re lucky I was in that meeting. Had I not volunteered, you’d be fired by now.”

Your heart dropped, the kettle was forgotten and only his words remained. “..w-what do you mean?”

“Your reputation here is far worse than you think.” He speaks as if he’s scolding you for a mistake, as if he’s warning you. “the intellegencia guild isn’t as sophisticated as you think it is- nor is it filled with geniuses .” He glared at you, and you’re honestly wondering what he’s so offended by. You did say you don’t regard yourself as a genius, didn’t you? “There are rumours about you. true or not, it doesn’t matter. They’re spreading like wildfire, and you only have a handful of options on how to react to this situation.”

You could feel your heartbeat racing, you really just don’t know what to say at this point. You’re feeling a mix of incomprehensible emotions, and your eyes are filled with distress and caution as you try to steady your breathing.

It seems like he’s done speaking, and as he turns around and walks to the door, your instincts flare up, and you say something out of your own control. A slip of the tongue.

“Then what do you want me to do?!” you ask in desperation. The lack of sleep, the stressful days, depressing thoughts and every bullshit in-between finally getting a toll on you.the kettle howls with you, finally reaching the boiling point and switching itself off. “what must I do to get their approval?!”

“Who said anything about gaining their approval?” he questioned. “ Surely, you can think of other ways to prove your worth in this place.”

Ratio stills in his walk, his back turned against you, yet his frozen form is enough to let you know he’s in shock, in disbelief. And when he turns around to meet your gaze, your deduction is supported by the look of disbelief and slight disappointment that he gives you.

“…what other way could there be?” you let out a tired sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. “you’re not suggesting I fight with them now, are you?” you then grimaced. “ I’d never stoop low into doing anything that relates to public humiliation for them either.” 

Ratio sighed, a hand coming up to rub his temples. “…quite the stubborn one…” he mumbles to no one in particular, and you can’t help but give an exasperated huff. “If you really want my input, I’d say a few of them deserve a proper humiliation just to knock some sense into their empty minds. But this is your matter, not mine.”

“you’re right. and so I won’t be humiliating them.”

Ratio’s eyes widen only for a moment, as he gazes into your determined eyes with some sense of deep understanding. But….an understanding of what , exactly? You weren’t sure. And no matter how much you were analyzing his every tick and move, you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“…..then I wish you the best, wanderer. ” And with that, he leaves the office. Leaving you alone with a cold kettle.

-----

Perhaps humiliation was the right call.

“Aeons, you look like shit.” The exasperated gasp of one of your only friends, the one you love to tease (bully) so much catches your attention.

Because as you sit here on the lounge, with the fellow co-workers now pouring in one-by-one, you really aren’t sure how you can gain their approval, while also keeping your pride intact. Because after all, there is no way you’ll grant them favors by doing their research or grading their papers. Not only will it make you their scapegoat for work, but it’s also vehemently against the intellgencia guild rules, and that could easily worsen your reputation if not treated with the utmost care.

“Morning to you too, Ratio simp .” You yawn, bringing the coffee closer to your lips, yet the bitter aroma makes you gag, and you learn the cup away from you instead and give a disgruntled sigh.

Byron rolls his eyes, sitting down beside you. “Seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“…you won’t like the answer to that.”

He looks at you with a mix of pity and disappointment,and as soon as Rina joins you both at the table, he looks at her with a pleading stare. “knock some sense into them.”

“you think I haven’t tried?” she scoffed, taking a sip of her own coffee. “they’re the utter definition of stubborn as a bull.”

“We know.” they both say in harsh unison, and though you know their angered voice is all out of concern for you, a bit of your heart breaks at such reactions. Great, now even your only friends hate you.

“I’m right here you know.”

You rest your head at the table for a moment, taking a deep breath and clearing your sad thoughts before sitting straight again. “I need your help with something.”

“Does it relate to fixing your sleep schedule?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not interested.”

You huff in annoyance, clicking your tongue and looking at them with plead. “it relates to my reputation here.” to that, they look at you with pity and intrigue. Aeons, you always disliked it when people look at you with pity. What is there to be sad about? You’re totally fine. Your life is absolutely normal, right?

“you two have been here longer than I have. What do I have to do here to gain respect?”

“well…most people who join the guild already have some respect and admiration latched to their name..and others started out in a neutral social placement before achieving high respect here for their accomplishments…” Byron tapped the table, his head in deep thought.

“…but I’m at rock bottom.” You concluded, feeling your shoulders slouch.

“Exactly,” Rina nodded. “ We never had a case like yours before.”

“Actually,” Byron’s eyes suddenly lit up, looking at Rina. “ We did have one. Remember?”

“hm?” she hummed in confusion at first, before her eyes lit up as well. you looked at both of them with befuddlement.

“...what is it?” you questioned with a bit too much enthusiasm, no matter how hard you were trying to hold it back.

“ well…before you, we had another magic professor. Professor Malbin. He lost his position as a professor due to urging students to do unauthorized experimentation revolving around toxin magic.”…toxin magic? ..you’ve mastered toxin magic years ago, and your master has told you about its unresearched capabilities and the dangers it can bring to someone. Producing toxin out of thin air is hard to achieve, but trying to make specific toxins is even worse. It forces you to tamper with reality, to tamper with science and even at timed your own body. Plucking out small atoms from the world itself to create something utterly new and poisonous. A true danger for newbies indeed, and something you should always heed carefully when learning. You remember your own first time when dabbling in toxin magic. It was not fun at all. the dizziness, the state of uncertainty, the heightened senses and the feel of your magic, your very essence of becoming faltered and uneasy was painful, to say the least.

“they couldn’t find the students who were involved, but they did find Malbin’s private files about this research, and that’s why they fired him. But guess what? His research on this has garnered a lot of praise. So his reputation hasn’t dwindled, rather, it went up.”

“that….explains everything.” You frowned. No wonder the malic and rumors towards you are so penitent. They think it was unfair for Malbin to be fired. They see him as a far more worthy person to be called a professor rather than you. some wanderer the guild picked up from Screwlum’s advice. “so…I must conduct a research that is just as good- or hopefully even- better than what Malbin has done?���

They both give a glance at each other and then look back at you with not-so-motivating shrugs. “probably, yeah.” Rina replied, while Byron hummed.

A sigh sipped past your lips, a headache slowly forming into your mind as you drink-up the coffee in your hand while withholding your gag and exhaustion from the constant bitter taste. You really need to start eating something sweet with it lest you want to throw up. “…research it is, then.”

--------------

The room is dark, cold. You stand in the black void in utter confusion, and…discomfort. You can feel fear and nausea course through your veins like blood. You can’t speak, only feel. You look around you for anything, something in this dark, shapeless void.

“You left me.” a shaky, broken and horrifying familiar voice echoes inside the room. you don’t dare to turn around, afraid of what you might see.

A horrid silence takes over the room. you could feel him staring at you. you could feel his piercing, hatred-filled gaze. Your mouth opens, shaking and barely holding it together.

“…you were mara-struck.” You utter, tears forming in your eyes.

“And whose fault was that?” he scoffed. Aeons. You missed his voice. yet you want him to just stop talking. To just stop hating you. to just stop telling the truth-

No.no.remember what Screwlum said. Echo his words. It was not your fault.it was not your fault. It….

“…there was nothing I could do.” your voice was barely a whisper, barely a breath.

“you and I both know that’s not true.” His words were like a dagger to your heart, piercing your very being and making your knees shake, buckle and fall to the ground. Your hands coming up to your ear instinctively, holding your hair in a deathly clutch. You see drops of water forming in the ground…and you realize that they’re in fact your tears. You’re crying. your heart feels like it’s getting stabbed into millions of pieces. Echoes and memories, his giggles, his soft smile, his blood-curdling scream all crash into your head like a wave. You wanted to scream, yet your lungs wouldn’t let you even breathe.

you plead for mercy, head down near the ground as you see his shoes now, he’s peering down at you. you don't want to look up, afraid of what you might see. The yellow leaves cascading down are already too much.

“Was it worth it? is it still worth it, Y/n ?” you missed how he called your name. you hated the fact that this is how you hear it.

“It's all your fault wanderer.” His sharp claws reach out and grab your hair. You let out a screech of pain as you’re forced to look up and see his face.

Papers fall everywhere as your body lurches awake. Sweat and tears cascading down your face. The office is dimly lit, your computer being the only source of light. Your breaths go from quick and ragged to calm and steady as you gulp.

Water. You need water. You look around the room for your mug, and as you finally find and quickly grab it, you curse at its empty contents. Great, now you have to get up and go to the office lounge. What time is it, even?

You peer at the clock on top of your door. Shit, it’s midnight. You’ve overstayed, again . Perhaps brainstorming immediately rather than seeking sleep wasn’t the best idea. Your body has seemingly forcibly shut itself down mid-way through your work and made you fall asleep.

You slowly get up, trying to shake the mental image of his mara-struck face out of your mind. Tiredly so, you walk out the office and on a familiar path to the lounge. You hope that you’re alone, that no one gets to see you this worn out,as if you’ve just walked out of a storm.

However, fate loves to torment its favorite punching, and as you slightly open the door, you’re met with locks of purple hair and the most intriguing of eyes. furrowed brows screaming of intellect and deep thought, a face so ethereal that you’d almost mistake him for a god. You’ll have to, unfortunately, admit that he is quite handsome. Still, it doesn’t really defend him regarding the case of his attitude.

Horrifyingly enough, his expression falters. “ I can hear you.” His words leave you jolting, sleepiness now fading away and being left with absolute shame and embarrassment at your own horrid and cringe-fail behaviour. “ It's obvious that you haven’t had a proper sleep yet.”  The sigh he gives leaves you even delving into more self-deprecation in your mind, all while you slowly walk-up to the counter and prepare your own set of caffeine-induced bitterness.

“Sorry.“  for a moment, you wonder if you should mention your last comment that happened merely seconds ago before the eerie silence, but you soon decide against it, wanting to ignore it with every fiber of your being and hoping to aeons that he’d do too. Instead, maybe small talk would do. “…so what’s keeping you up at this time?”

“ Pop quiz preparations.”

You gave a joking wince. “you’re gonna surprise them tomorrow, eh?”

“next week, actually.”

“…and you’re preparing now?”

“There'll be multiple quizzes, on each day of the week.”

You look at him with disbelief, a concern for the students etched on your face. To that, his brows furrowed and he huffs in defense.

“It's essential to their learning.” He defends. “ I must make sure these lessons stick to their minds and don't fade away with time.”

“…I can see your reasoning behind it.” you mumble. “but…”

“but?”

“..won’t it crush their grades and spirit?”

“grades don’t matter. It’s what you learn that does.” He said with a firm tone.

He stays silent at that, and you take this as an opportunity to drink up the water your body so desperately needs.

“while that is true, that is not how the guild would think now, is it?” you open the fuacet, pouring water into your mug as you continue. “It's just like you said, the guild is quite flawed. And so, they’ll only care about the number on the paper, not the student’s own skill.”

“…one pop quiz it is, then.” You’re actually quite shocked by this outcome, as you look at him with disbelief.

His brows scrunch up in slight annoyance. “What is it now? surely you’re not suggesting for me to not do a pop quiz at all?”

“no..no..it’s just that…” you peer away from his gaze, a little overwhelmed by its intensity. He always looks like he’s studying you. like he’s trying to decipher your being. You’re certain it’s out of habit for him. a born genius, always thirsting for knowledge. “ …I didn’t think you’d be so easily convinced.”

“And why would you have such a belief, might I ask?”

“Well….” you tap your foot a bit in stress. Shoulders tensing up. “rumor has it that you’re quite difficult to reason with…”

“…guess we’re both victims of untrue rumors.” You reply, your finger swirling the rim of your mug.

“ah, well,” his voice had a sort of lilt to it, a lightened, slightly condescending tone. “ not all rumors around here are true, are they now?...or perhaps you’re suggesting otherwise?” oh, sneaky. And Unfortunately, he;s right.

“that we are, L/n.”

A silence takes over the room. you finally take a sip of your water, relishing its refreshing taste and your body soaring in victory since you finally drank something healthy for once this week. You forgot how good water tasted,how heavenly its cooling effects were for the mortal body.

You wonder if he’ll ask you the same question. and to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t. you don’t pay any mind to it, treating the silence as a peaceful one rather than awkward as you walk up to the windows to view the stars.

Stargazing has always been a favorite activity of yours, even if you’ve travelled all thw galaxies. There’s something about these glimmering dots up on the sky that leaves you in a blissful daze, deep in thought with no grief or heartache polluting your mind. They bring you a sense of clarity, of peace.

A frustrated groan gets you out of your daze as you slightly flinch, giving a small glance back at Ratio. He seemed stuck in his own mind, glaring at the pristine looking book he had in his hands as he seemingly scribbled out something from it with a disgruntled look. Soon, the discontempt expression becomes one of scholarly intrigue once again, and he taps his pencil on the book as he thinks.

His eyebrows furrowed again. “must you be so insistent on your gawking?”

You could feel shame and embarrassment course through you like a large hammer striking your head. You immediately jolt your head back, away from his gaze as you huff in embarrassment. “ sorry…sorry….” Aeons, how many times have you apologized for your strange behaviour tonight? Why is it so hard for you to hide your intrigue for him? What's so interesting about him that keeps dragging your mind deeper into analyzing his every move?...”I…I don’t know what’s gotten into me..sorry.” you pray to Nanook to just come and strike you down now where you stand. You’d rather embrace death than to revisit this awkward moment in your life time and time again at three in the morning when you can’t sleep. You’re certain it’ll be added to the collection, a collection which your bring will excitedly choose from, like a child in a candy store.

He  closes his book, sits down on a chair and crosses his legs, his hands resting on his head.  “Is there something you’d like to ask me, L/n?”

You hesitate on answering, wondering if there truly is something you wanted to ask him, which would explain the strange intrigue you had on him. with a nervous nod, you reply. “…what’s...gotten you so frustrated just now?”

His eyes light up a bit, his once furrowed brows losing a  bit of their intensity. “ah, for a moment there I thought you were going to ask me my thoughts about your class again…it’s good that you can take no for an answer.” He hummed. “ Though, this current question of yours isn’t of any value either. for what purpose would I want to explain my current issue to you?”

“well..perhaps I can help?”

“Do you have expertise in the area of physics?”

“No.”

“then you cannot help me.” he quickly concluded with a pep in his tone, crossing his arms. “It'll merely be a waste of time for me to tell you.”

“well..hey now…” you suddenly felt defensive, as if you had something to prove, as if you wanted to prove your worth. Not only to him, but the entirety of the guild as well. “I’m certain I can still help in some way. Even if I’m not an expert at physics, that doesn’t mean I can’t give my insight as a magic expert.”

“magic is in everything .” You replied. “ it is the unsolvable, and non-understandable science. It is the things we cannot properly explain, but they still exist around us. so I’m certain that one way or another, any problem can have magic involved in it. Just like how science is in every step we take, magic is too. Science is the peace, while magic is the chaos, and together they create life itself within this realm.” You were too into your ramble now, too deeply focused to notice the intrigue in his eyes shining brighter, and his frown slowly dissolving. “ Hell, think about our creators, the aeons. Can we truly only explain them in a scientific way? Must we not speak of magic and the unexplained phenomenons they produce as well? magic is in science, and science is in magic. the solved and the unsolvable. It’s that simple.”

“How are you so sure your magic expertise can help?”

How could you not hear of the land of dreams? The land where all wishes come true, where all your worries fade away. the place where you wanted to isolate yourself in, the perfect escapism, the perfect place for shutting down the world,pain and grief around you as you wither away. a place which Screwlum delayed your departure for, then quickly assgined you to this professor gig so you’d never run away from reality. You tense up a bit as you hear it’s name again, but nod away.

“That simple…huh?...” Ratio mumbled, tilting his head. “ Well then, enlighten me, L/n. Here is my problem,” he opens his book, and suddenly, the notes and scribbles float up in a glitch-like blue font before turning into a holographic blue screen. Physic equations, circles and archives about neuroscience and dreamscapes litter the holographic board in a series of what you can only describe as genius cacophony. “ I assume you heard of Penacony, yes?”

“well, the intellegencia guild has been researching its dream-related abilities for a while now,” he continued. “and I have tasked myself with researching its dream-bubbles.”

He suddenly brings up a video in the holographic screen, which was showcasing a person touching the bubble and suddenly getting pulled into it. “it’s a new, unknown teleporter that transports people into specific personal moments in their life, often blissful ones. The bubble seems to produce a visual space inside its circle that only the people inside the bubble can see. “

“so…kind of like a virtual world?...”

“You could say that. But, the physicality and contents of this bubble are completely unknown to us..moreover, it’s not a creation of the family at all. it just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and more of it is producing out of thin air. I want to know how it’s made, and how it appears.”

“Well, the answer is obvious.”

“Is it now?” he looks at you incredulously. “What is it, pray tell?”

“It's magic.” you shrugged, and he gave a disgruntled groan in response.

His face became deadpan, a frown on his face once more. “ things cannot be that simplified, wanderer.”

“I disagree, Doctor.” You mutter. “ It's just that simple. Penacony is the prime source of a magic utterly and completely rare in our universe. Dream magic. These bubbles are obviously a by-product of it.���

“..dream magic…” he tutted in thought, hand firmly placed under his chin. “…so how are they made then? What happens within dream magic that creates these bubbles?”

“I…don’t know.” you shrugged. “I’ll have to see the bubble in person to determine that.” And from what you can guess, they’re in penacony. So, no, you really can’t help him, not unless you miraculously book a space ticket to that place and somehow manage to get there in time before tomorrow’s class.

Ratio stares at you a bit, nods and quickly gets up, walking away to the exit. And for a moment, you think that’s it. That's the end of your conversation, and the end of your lackluster aid to help him. that is, until he stops his tracks and looks at you expectedly.

“well?”

You froze for a moment, looking back at him confused. He gives an exasperated huff as his brows furrow. “Are you coming or not?”

“h-huh? To where?” you then huffed. “surely you don’t mean penacony-“

“ah yes, because I can most certainly teleport us there in an instant.” He said sarcastically. “I mean to my office, L/n. I have a preserved dream bubble there.”

“I see…” you cleared your throat, now a bit embarrassed by your own reaction. Truly, what is up with your deduction skills today? “lead the way please.”

------

The bubble shined with the wisps of light blue and gold, tantalizing its bottled illusions.

You were in a daze of its glory, the whispers and giggles it produced, perhaps from a sweet bottled dream, called out to you like a siren fooling a lonely pirate. It is in this moment that you realize why Screwlum stiffened in what you can guess was horror when you told him about your leave for penacony. Penacony was made for the lonely seamen of space, the siren of the damned. and you, were the most cursed being Screwlum has ever met.

“ well ?” Ratio snaps you out of your trance, and you shook your head and slid down the stressed up bundle of bile that was stuck in your throat. You take a few steps closer to the bubble trapped inside the glass podium, eyes scanning every whisp of magic and sensing its power.

“May we take it out of the case?” you asked him, and he looked at you with stern brows.

“any contact with it may cause you to see the confined illusions within it.” He steps closer. “If I am to open this, I must make sure that you will proceed with caution,wanderer.”

“I will…I mean, what can be so harmful about a tiny bubble?” Ratio gave a disgruntled hum to that question, giving you an earnest stare that you could only guess was demanding for you to be a bit more serious about the situation at hand. You cleared your throat. “uh..yes yes, I’ll be careful,Doctor.”

Carefully, ration clicks a button, and the glass podium starts deconstructing itself right before your eyes. The bubble’s once confined energy pollutes the entire place, overwhelming you with the intensity of its power. You take a deep breath, reaching out your hand to reconnect with its atoms somehow. To speak to the magic inside it.

“there’s so much magic…how can you look so…relaxed under its influence?” you huffed out the question as you glanced at him, seeing his unbothered figure. He looks at you in deep thought, eyeing your overwhelmed form as you are busy controlling colors and wisps of the air.

“….it seems that the magic affects you more than it does me.” he hums. “perhaps you are an expert at your field…but tell me, why do most skilled magicians always find themselves more influenced by the magical auras around them? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?...shouldn’t they be immune to it?”

“It's not a question of immunity, Doctor. Rather, it’s a question of how much you can speak to it.”

Ratio gives you an incredulous look. “ pardon ?” His eyes were filled with intrigue and bafflement. “Did you just say ‘ speak’ ?”

“…in my eyes, magic is a person in of itself.”  You paused for a moment, trying to hear the whispers wishes and unspoken stories of the magic within. “The most skilled people I know in this field are ones who treat magic as anything but an object. Some treat it like their god, others their enemy. The truth is magic is a living being of its own right, in a cosmological field outside of our mortal perspective…magic has lived as long as aeons have been around, and for some, magic is considered an aeon in their own right.”

“..and you, L/n ... .what do you see magic as?” he asked through the whispers, fierce eyes stuck on your expression as you try to pay your utmost attention to the task at hand.

“…a friend.” You mumbled, the wisps of flown magic going around your arm like ribbons, the whispers getting louder and clearer as they entered your ears and spoke of the unspoken. The illusion laid within the confines of water.

“…so you were correct.” Ratio cut through the silence, finger under his chin in thought, looking back at the bubble again. “…the bubble’s confines can be understood by researching its magic capabilities…”

“I’m not done yet, Doctor Ratio.”

“ oh ? Is your dear friend spilling secrets to you?” you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his reply, glancing back at him before reverting your attention back to your friend.

“Jealous much, doctor?”

“of you or the magic?”

“you tell me.”

“hah, as if.” He turned his head away from you, but you were keen enough to notice his small smile.

“that didn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions need answers, Wanderer.”

“suit yourself.” You sighed. “But since I’m much kinder than you, I will answer yours—“ you gave him a cheeky smile, and he rolled his eyes at it, further fueling your newfound enthusiasm. “ You see, magic is quite the cheeky being. They don’t like giving answers that are straight to the point. Rather, they like to speak in riddles only aeons could fully comprehend. But, that doesn’t mean understanding it is impossible...it merely makes it harder.”

“and? What have they whispered in your ear exactly?”

“echoes.” You replied. “Echoes of memories deep within the bubble…some familiar…some unknown…I can’t really link any of them together…and all I can guess right now is that the bubble uses its illusionary powers to create a dream sequence solely indulged into the fantasies and dreams of the people that are nearest to it…to prove this…I need a few answers. who else has touched this bubble that you know of?”

“hm…many people have but…the last person who did besides me was the student who bumped into it…I believe it was…” he then tched, as if the very name of the person gives him a headache. “ Caleb Stones…” he sighed. “..the most troublesome student I’ve ever faced…” he mumbled.

You quickly get to work, speaking to the magic that was now within your mind, checking your dreams and desires. Wisps of your own magic appear, and inside your conscious, you kindly ask to see Caleb’s dreams, to see his deepest desires laced within a dream. For a moment, you think to yourself if this could be considered as crossing a personal boundary or not…is it ok to look through someone’s deepest wishes without their consent? Especially if they’re your student? Nevertheless, you’ve gone too far in, and the magic is more than eager to show you the illusionary powers it was capable of.

Sounds of claps echo through your mind, cheers buzzing in your ears and ‘congratulations’ being muddled within your area of hearing. You see yourself in graduation garb, and soon, you can feel the strange sense of pride, enthusiasm and joy of course within you. you see a bunch of your coworkers, you included,looking at you with prideful smiles, a piece of firm paper right in your hands. You take a deep breath, looking at the paper with buzzing excitement, as a familiar voice echoes a speech.

“Caleb Stones…” as the voice echoes, you see a familiar face in the crowd. One that you wished to never see again. fall leaves, withered body, mara-struck eyes. “We thank you for your incredible contribution to the research of---“ Your breath hitches, heart dropping to your stomach as your hands slip and the framed paper slips into the ground and shatters.

You gasp, falling back from the sudden influx of magic as Veritas calls out your name in worry. You take a deep breath, trying to dissociate illusion from reality. Trying to forget the autumn smell and poisoned immortality.

“…I know you have like two hundred phds and all, but there’s no need for a check-up, doc.” You try to wheeze out the joke with an exhausted smile, heart still in a bundle of disarray. Ratio’s brows furrowed, grumbling in annoyed disappointment.

“…are you alright?” you didn’t even notice that Ratio kneeled down beside you, hand on your shoulder as he checked your pulse. “…are you feeling any sort of pain?”

“ eight . They’re only eight PHDs.” He clicked his tongue.

“you act as if it’s a completely normal accomplishment.”

“it is to me—“ he then quickly huffs. “ aeons sake, why are we even talking about this right now? do not try to avoid the situation at hand L/n.”

“I’m not. I told you I’m fine.”

“You got blasted into my office’s wall.”

“Well, that’s just a Tuesday for me. just like how collecting PHDS is a normal task for you.”

“ for how long are you gonna—“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and letting his frustration out through the huff. “ Has the sudden blow to the head messed up your mind? Why on earth do you keep bringing this up?”

You shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile. “joking helps me cope, I guess.”

A flash of understanding sweeps through his gaze before reverting back into the same scrutinising and analytical glare. “I see.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “ what have you witnessed within the bubble?”

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts and answer. “....Caleb’s dream. The dream magic was just a bit more than what I expected I could handle, that’s all.” you lied through your teeth, feeling the guilt set into you. yet your mind warned you of the consequences of showing your heart to another. never again will you let anyone see your fear, your heart, your humanity in its rawest form.

Ratio hums in thought, tapping his finger under his chin as he gazes back to the bubble. “….an incredible influx of dream magic that can  sense your deepest desires and create its illusions…..” he then gives an exhausted sigh, a small glimmer of weakness from a man who always seemed in power. “…perhaps it truly wasn’t related to its physics at all.”

You felt a bit guilty, knowing what it's like to be faced with failure when you desired success. “….the strongest weapon of a researcher is their power to admit they were wrong about something.” You tried to comfort him. “ if we were to just be stubborn in our ways, we would’ve never prospered to the point we are now.”

He stays quiet for a bit, his smart mind in a deep thought that you could only assume was speaking in an ancient scientific language or hell, maybe computer codes laced with socrates and shakespeare-esque writing. Whatever it was, it seems like your words left him in a silenced splunder. You merely hoped the silence was because your words rang true, and not that he realized you’re a complete dumbass who doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

To your luck, he finally speaks. “….then a new research must begin.” He gets up, coating off the minimum amount of dust off his robes, and you realize how awfully squeaky clean his office floor is compared to others. you can see your reflection on the ground, and you wonder if this is what people truly mean when they say the floor is clean enough to eat on it. you think to yourself, does he scrub the ground himself, or does he hire a maid? And if so, is it a weekly,monthly, or daily wash? Your ridiculous trails of thoughts vanish the moment he outstretches a hand for you, and as you take it, you feel a buzzing comfort within your heart. It was strange, because now you’ve realized that you’ve….never really held anyone’s hands before. Only one person ever had that privilege, and he used to take your scarred hands into his soft, often cold ones as you walk around the aurum alley in search of vendors to binge-eat snacks from. Ratio’s hands, however, were the complete opposite. Despite being soft to the touch, it was far more muscular and meaty than yours. You could almost sense the years of training he had just by the weight of his palm holding yours. His hands were warm, deeply warm. As if the blood that runs through him is lava, a contrast to his cold and brooding nature. And once again, like the wanderer you are, you wonder, what does his heart feel like then? Is it as warm as his hands? Or as chilly as his attitude? Or are you just alluding yourself with these rambling thoughts all to avoid the reminiscence of the bitter past? Of the cold hands and cheeky smile, of the soft texture that were never meant to fight, never meant to shed blood or break. “ tell me, wanderer, do you have any plans for this term?”

You looked at him a bit perplexed, unsure of how to answer. Yes?..no?....“not…really?” yep, that’s the best way to put it.

“good. Well, sad and disappointing for you, but good for me.” he hums nonchalantly,only adding more to your grimace.

“did you really have to put it that way?”

“—would you like to join me in this research?” he ignores your question, adding further insult to injury. his words were like a bathtub full of salt, one you’d fear a wounded,emotionally sensitive person to fall into.”I could use your expertise in the magic field. “

You hesitate for a moment, eyes wandering away to the bubble once more, fearing the surging power within it, yet also, craving the chaos it contains. You’ve always been like this when it comes to magic. Screwlum has often called you a ‘magic-addict’, with Herta once adding, “it’s like you breathe magic to live.’ A burning curiosity blazes within you, desperately wanting to become the dead cat they always hum about, desiring the satisfaction that will revive you, the understanding of the world beyond you. therefore, with a nod, you give Ratio a reply. “…it’d be quite a pleasure, Dr.Ratio.”

Ratio looks deep within your gaze, searching for something, what that thing is, only aeons would know, and how desperately did you wish you could speak to them. He then lets out a sigh, eyes as steel and inquisitive as ever. As pretty as ever. “….just Ratio will do, wanderer.”

------

Ratiosimp :……..

Rina :……

Y/n : what?

Y/n : why are you two so quiet???

Ratiosimp :…….

Y/n : the fuck is ‘…..’ supposed to mean????

Y/n : pls reply with something other than dramatic pause in the group chat. I did NOT just spend hours texting in such excruciating detail just for you two to be dramatically silent.

Rina :…I….

Y/n : you are not helping.

RatioSimp : LMMMMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU FUCKING DUMBASSS

Rina: the REAL Ratio simp. Hell one could say you’re a future Ratio fucker.

Y/n: I hate both of you.

Y/n: I am deleting this group chat and blocking you both.

RatioSimp: YOU DUM-DUM

Y/n: STOP

RatioSimp : YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIND A NEW RESEARCH TOPIC FOR YOURSELF

Y/n : ENOUGH

RatioSimp: NOT GO HELP THE OTHER WEIRDO WITH ONE

*Y/n has removed RatioSimp from the group chat*

Rina : So when's the date? Or do you guys wanna skip that and get freaky in his office instead?

Y/n: goodbye.

You grumble in utter embarrassment as you turn off your phone and dramatically throw it to your bed, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it for dear life as you knew it.

Unfortunately for you, Byron was right. you were supposed to find a new research topic with this 3rd all-nighter in a row, not stupidly aid and accept the offer to help someone else with theirs. In fact, you should’ve told Ratio you are, despite others’ belief, busy with your own research. You just– didn’t know what exactly the research was yet!!

Yet here you are, now tangled with the man of utter mystery himself, the face of stone and marble with such a distinctive look on the world that you still find yourself trying to comprehend.

With a sigh and a hand through your hair, you lay your head on the soft pillows, the nerves in your brain all rejoicing at the prospect of you finally resting for once in these hellish hours. as your thoughts aimlessly drift by with whines and grumbles about everything, you find yourself fast asleep, trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

Why wasn’t Dr.Ratio a genius?

--------A.N----------

GUESS WHOSE BACK WITH ANOTHER FANFIC SHE’LL ONLY RELEASE ONE CHAPTER OF AND THEN FEEL OVERWHELMED AND LEAVE??? *points to herself* THISS GUYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

But no seriously if this gets enough attention I may actually have the motivation to continue it. The main reason I falter in continuing fics is usually burn out, terrible and horrid attention span due to my adhd (yes I’ve been officially diagnosed. But honestly look at my fics man how did you expect me to be neurotypical) and TERRIBLE TERRIBLE perfectionist mindset. And I mean TERRIBLE.i swear to you, each and every fic of mine has like—a poor draft filled with over 10k words that im too scared to continue and too nit-picky about it because I keep feeling like I’m utterly deeply incompetent and that my writing is ass. So I tend to give up before I cook, because I’m so utterly scared of failure lmao. I’m hoping by scratching this from being a oneshot to a full-blown few chapters fic, I can break this cycle and finally finish writing ALL the fics I’ve published without the fear of perfectionism. I think a main part that helps me get through it is seeing people actually enjoy my writing tbh. Like if people enjoy it and express that joy to me, my perfectionist urge dies down a bit and I feel more confident in myself. But since I’ve been writing for either unpopular characters orrr for characters so deeply popular your fic can easily get lost in the sea of fics out there, I’ve not received the attention my perfectionist mindset so desperately craves, and so I’ve been lacking in confidence in my own work. Im hoping with this fic it can all change T_T

Anyways if you want this fic to continue PLEASE RAMBLE PLEASE COMMENT RAHHHHH it truly gives me the motivation I need to continue this. Kudos/likes/votes ain’t enough folks i need to hear ALL your thoughts elfknwrnblskbwr